


High School Never Ends

by radiocandy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BRO MY TAG CLUTTER ANXIETY IS AT PEAK LEVELS, Multi, no beta we charge in headfirst like REAL MEN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29831025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiocandy/pseuds/radiocandy
Summary: When they graduate, they take a look around and they say, "Hey, wait— this is the same as where I just came from, I thought it was over... oh, that's justgreat."[or:gratuitous university au in which most of karakura high attends the local college and shenanigans ensue. inspired by the song by bowling for soup / shorter chapters + longass story ]
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Nelliel Tu Oderschvank, Ishida/his grades is the otp, Keigo is doomed to be forever alone tho, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Ulquiorra Cifer/Inoue Orihime, also includes doomed/failed relationships along the way, side pairings for days
Comments: 20
Kudos: 28





	1. STUDENT / FACULTY FILES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi okay! so i’ve never written bleach fic before so be gentle with me lol. note that i have not read the 1000 year arc yet, though i intend to while shamelessly indulging myself with this au.
> 
> this is really just a quick intro— student/faculty data, if you will.

**> > KARAKURA UNIVERSITY STUDENT FILES**

  * **ACCESS GRANTED**



**> > PASSWORD:** **GUEST ✓**

** >> SELECTED STUDENT FILES: LOADED**

  * **NOTE CREATED BY: I** **SE, NANAO (DEAN OF ADMISSIONS)**
    * **PERSONAL STATEMENTS ARE SCORED:**
      * **1 (POOR)**
      * **2 (WEAK)**
      * **3 (FAIR)**
      * **4 (GOOD)**
      * **5 (STRONG)**



* * *

**> > INCOMING FRESHMEN** ********

_ABARAI, RENJI_

  * MAJOR: PRE-LAW
  * INCOMING GPA: 3.45
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 4
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: UNSURE ABOUT LAW DESTINATION GIVEN THE INCOMING GPA, BUT ESSAY PORTRAYS A WILLINGNESS TO LEARN AND WORK HARD. PERHAPS BYAKUYA COULD MENTOR HIM SOMEHOW WITHOUT WANTING TO COMMIT HOMICIDE?



_ARISAWA, TATSUKI_

  * MAJOR: ATHLETIC TRAINING
  * INCOMING GPA: 3.68
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 4
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: SCRAPPY HANDWRITING, A BLUNT AND STRAIGHTFORWARD ESSAY ON THE BENEFITS OF ATHLETIC TRAINING IN ADDITION TO COMPETITIVE PROGRAMS.



_ASANO, KEIGO_

  * MAJOR: COMMUNICATIONS
  * INCOMING GPA: 2.87
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 2
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: COVERED IN COFFEE? MAYBE CHOCOLATE? ALMOST UNREADABLE. OKAY, IT'S TOTALLY UNREADABLE.



_HINAMORI, MOMO_

  * MAJOR: SPECIAL EDUCATION
  * INCOMING GPA: 3.75
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 4
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL HANDWRITING ACCOMPANYING A COMPASSIONATE ESSAY ADVOCATING FOR EQUAL RIGHTS FOR THE DISABLED.



_INOUE, ORIHIME_

  * MAJOR: ELEMENTARY EDUCATION
  * INCOMING GPA: 3.72
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 3
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: DOODLES INCLUDED? SLIGHTLY DITZY, EVEN VIA UNIVERSITY APP. SHOWS GREAT POTENTIAL FOR GROWTH REGARDLESS, AND IS LIKELY SKILLED WITH CHILDREN.



_ISHID_ A, _URYUU_

  * MAJOR: ACCOUNTING
  * MINOR: BUSINESS MANAGEMENT
  * INCOMING GPA: 4.0
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 5
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: ALMOST TOO PERFECT. NOTE TO SELF— CHECK IF THIS KID IS A ROBOT AT ORIENTATION.



_IZURU, KIRA_

  * MAJOR: COMPUTER SCIENCE
  * INCOMING GPA: 3.43
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 4
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: TACITURN AND BRIEF **—** UNSURE OF WHAT TO THINK. TIME WILL TELL.



_KOJIMA, MIZUIRO_

  * MAJOR: COMMUNICATIONS
  * INCOMING GPA: 3.04
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 3
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: ALREADY WELL CONNECTED IN THE WORLD, BENEFICIAL TO THE UNIVERSITY IN THE FUTURE. BEYOND THAT, NOTHING VERY UNIQUE OR SPECIAL.



_KUCHIKI, RUKI_ A

  * MAJOR: BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION
  * MINOR: STATISTICS
  * INCOMING GPA: 4.0
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 5
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: FLAWLESS ESSAY WITH PROPER CITATIONS **—** A RARE SIGHT. ALSO CONSIDERED A LEGACY STUDENT (SEE BYAKUYA). CONNECT HER TO UKITAKE RIGHT AWAY!



_KUROSAKI, ICHIGO_

  * MAJOR: BIOLOGY (PRE-MEDICINE)
  * INCOMING GPA: 3.89
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 5
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: WHILE THE APPLICATION ITSELF IS WEAK, HIS PERSONAL STATEMENT IS STRONG AND DEMONSTRATES PROMISE. SEEMS TO HAVE A REPUTATION **—** WATCH OUT. LORD HELP US IF WE GET A SECOND GRIMMJOW; THAT'S SIMPLY NOT IN THE SCHOOL BUDGET.



_YAMADA, HANATARO_

  * MAJOR: CHEMISTRY (PRE-MEDICINE)
  * INCOMING GPA: 3.67
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 3
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: SEND STUDENT TO CLINIC FOR ADHD ASSESSMENT. OTHERWISE, VERY PROMISING.



_YASUTORA, SADO_

  * MAJOR: EXERCISE SCIENCE/KINESIOLOGY
  * MINOR: SPANISH
  * INCOMING GPA: 3.92
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 4
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: SHORT AND SWEET, LITERALLY, WHEN DRAWING UPON EXPERIENCES WITH HIS ABUELO IN HIS ESSAY. THERE IS VALUE IN GETTING STRAIGHT TO THE POINT.



* * *

**> > RETURNING SOPHOMORES** ********

_AYASEGAWA, YUMICHIKA_

  * MAJOR: ARCHITECTURE
  * MINOR: INTERIOR DESIGN
  * CURRENT GPA: 3.31
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * SECOND YEAR PROGRESS: AYASEGAWA IS ON TRACK WITH EVERY CLASS AND IS TAKING EXTRA HOURS WITH THE DEAN'S PERMISSION (TOTAL OF 21). HOW HE STILL LOOKS FLAWLESS AT ALL TIMES REMAINS AN INFURIATING MYSTERY TO US ALL, FACULTY INCLUDED.
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 3



_CIFER, ULQUIORRA_

  * MAJOR: ECONOMICS
  * MINOR: FINANCIAL PLANNING
  * CURRENT GPA: 4.0
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES: 
    * SECOND YEAR PROGRESS: CIFER IS ON TRACK WITH ALL OF HIS CLASSES TO POTENTIALLY GRADUATE EARLY. INTELLIGENT, BUT MAY LACK THE PEOPLE SKILLS REQUIRED FOR HIS CAREER TRACK (UNDERSTATEMENT).
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 5



_JAEGERJAQUEZ, GRIMMJOW_

  * MAJOR: BIOLOGY (PRE-VETERINARY MEDICINE)
  * CURRENT GPA: 2.36
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SECOND YEAR PROGRESS: MUST RETAKE SEVERAL CLASSES. MANDATORY SESSION WITH UNIVERSITY COUNSELOR TO BE SCHEDULED FOR BEHAVIORAL ISSUES. MANY, MANY BEHAVIORAL ISSUES.
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 2



_MADARAME, IKKAKU_

  * MAJOR: CRIMINAL JUSTICE
  * CURRENT GPA: 2.63
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SECOND YEAR PROGRESS: LITTLE TO NO INTEREST IN ACTUAL ACADEMIC WORK, BUT ADVANCING QUICKLY VIA HANDS ON LEARNING **—** ALSO KNOWN AS GETTING BEATEN AROUND BY HIS ADVISOR, KENPACHI. WHATEVER WORKS.
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 3



_ODELSCHWANCK, NELLIEL TU_

  * MAJOR: SOCIAL WORK
  * MINOR: PUBLIC ADMINISTRATION & SERVICES
  * CURRENT GPA: 3.93
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SECOND YEAR PROGRESS: A STAR IN HER DEPARTMENT **—** NOT MUCH MORE TO SAY BEYOND THAT.
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 5



_SARUGAKI, HIYORI_

  * MAJOR: JOURNALISM/CREATIVE WRITING
  * MINOR: ENGLISH
  * CURRENT GPA: 3.52
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SECOND YEAR PROGRESS: ATTITUDE PROBLEMS ARE A CONSTANT ISSUE DESPITE HER OBVIOUS TALENT. MAYBE SEND TO COUNSELOR AS WELL? CONSULT STARRK, AND REMEMBER TO BUY BOX WINE TONIGHT.
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 4



* * *

**> > RETURNING JUNIORS** ********

_KUNA, MASHIRO_

  * MAJOR: ASTROLOGY
  * MINOR: PARKS & RECREATION
  * CURRENT GPA: 2.19
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * THIRD YEAR PROGRESS: MASHIRO HAS CHOSEN TWO UNRELATED AND LIKELY USELESS MAJORS AND SHOWS LITTLE TO NO ACADEMIC INTEREST. HONESTLY UNSURE AS TO WHY SHE IS HERE.
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 2



_KUROTSUCHI, NEMU_

  * MAJOR: BIOLOGY (PRE-PHARMACY)
  * CURRENT GPA: 4.0
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * THIRD YEAR PROGRESS: QUIET BUT EFFICIENT— AS EXPECTED OF MAYURI'S ADOPTED DAUGHTER. SOCIALLY AWKWARD BUT CONSISTENTLY TOP IN HER CLASS.
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 4



_MATSUMOTO, RANGIKU_

  * MAJOR: NONE DECLARED
  * CURRENT GPA: 1.89
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * THIRD YEAR PROGRESS: NONEXISTENT **—** RANGIKU ALARMINGLY SHOWS NO SIGNS OF DECLARING A MAJOR ANYTIME SOON DESPITE BEING A JUNIOR. SPEAK WITH KYOURAKU ASAP.
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 1



_SHUUHEI, HISAGI_

  * MAJOR: CRIMINAL JUSTICE
  * CURRENT GPA: 3.17
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * THIRD YEAR PROGRESS: HISAGI HAS ADVANCED TO DOING HANDS ON WORK WITH POLICE, AS WELL AS ATTENDING TRIALS IN DISTRICT COURTS. OVERALL STEADY.
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 3



* * *

**> > RETURNING SENIORS** ****

_GILGA, NNOITRA_

  * MAJOR: PHILOSOPHY
  * CURRENT GPA: 2.24
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SENIOR THESIS PROGRESS: 16%
    * THESIS TOPIC: MISANDRY AND SOCIETY
      * FOCUS: IF I’M BEING HONEST, I ABSOLUTELY CAN’T TELL
      * SPEAK TO PROFESSOR ABOUT EXCESSIVE USE OF THE WORD "CUNT"



_GRANZ, SZAYEL_

  * MAJOR: CHEMISTRY (PRE-PHARMACY)
  * CURRENT GPA: 4.0
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SENIOR THESIS PROGRESS: 58%
    * THESIS TOPIC: CHARACTERIZING/PREDICTING TOXIN EFFECTS ON COGNITION
      * FOCUS: METAL BASED TOXINS (AND NO, I DO NOT WANT TO KNOW WHY)



_HIRAKO, SHINJI_

  * MAJOR: ENGINEERING
  * CURRENT GPA: 4.0
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SENIOR THESIS PROGRESS: 72%
    * THESIS TOPIC: EFFECTIVE ENGINEERING IN LEADERSHIP POSITIONS
      * FOCUS: TOP DEVELOPMENTAL STRATEGIES AND THEIR IMPLEMENTATION



_KUCHIKI, BYAKUYA_

  * MAJOR: PRE-LAW
  * CURRENT GPA: 4.0
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SENIOR THESIS PROGRESS: 89%
    * THESIS TOPIC: CAPITAL PUNISHMENT — PROS AND CONS
      * FOCUS: IS CAPTAL PUNISHMENT ACTUALLY A DETERRENT?



_TIER, HALIBEL_

  * MAJOR: POLITICAL SCIENCE
  * MINOR: SPANISH
  * CURRENT GPA: 3.88
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SENIOR THESIS PROGRESS: 73%
    * THESIS TOPIC: IMPLEMENTING PROGRESS IN LOCAL GOVERNMENT VIA PROGRESSIVE POLICY
      * FOCUS: FEMINISM IN POLITICS



_YADOMARU, LISA_

  * MAJOR: ART
  * MINOR: ART HISTORY
  * CURRENT GPA: 3.62
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SENIOR THESIS PROGRESS: 54%
    * THESIS TOPIC: PORNOGRAPHY THROUGHOUT ART HISTORY
      * DISCUSS THIS WITH PROFESSOR KANONJI ASAP! TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE!



* * *

**> > SPECIAL CASE STUDENTS**

_HITSUGAYA, TOSHIRO_

  * MAJOR: ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENCE
  * MINOR: BIOLOGY
  * INCOMING GPA: 4.0
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 5
    * APPLICATION IMPRESSION: AN ABSOLUTE GENIUS. NOTHING MORE TO SAY.



_KUSAJISHI, YACHIRU_

  * MAJOR: PSYCHOLOGY
  * CURRENT GPA: 2.76
  * DEAN OF ADMISSION NOTES:
    * SECOND YEAR PROGRESS: SEEMS TO SHOW LITTLE TO NO INTEREST IN SCHOOLWORK AND CHOSE HER MAJOR BECAUSE "IT'S EASY." QUESTIONABLE PROGRESS.
    * PERSONAL STATEMENT: 2



* * *

**> > KARAKURA UNIVERSITY FACULTY FILES**

  * **ACCESS GRANTED**



**> > PASSWORD:** **GUEST ✓**

** >> ARCHIVED FILES SELECTED:**

******> > ACTIVE FACULTY**

_AIKAWA, LOVE_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: COMMUNICATIONS
    * SPECIAL FOCUS: ADVERTISING/DIGITAL COMMS
    * ADVISOR TO:
      * ASANO KEIGO
      * KOJIMA MIZUIRO



_COYOTE, STARRK_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: CORE EDUCATION
    * SPECIAL FOCUS: ENGLISH
    * ADVISOR TO: 
      * SARUGAKI HIYORI
      * MATSUMOTO RANGIKU



_FON, SOI_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: DEAN - SCHOOL OF LAW
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO: 
      * ABARAI RENJI
      * KUCHIKI BYAKUYA



_GENRYUSAI, YAMAMOTO_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: DEAN - PUBLIC ADMINISTRATION & SERVICES
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO: 
      * NELLIEL TU ODELSCHWANCK
      * TIER HALIBEL



_ISE, NANAO_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: DEAN - GENERAL ADMISSIONS
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO:
      * KUNA MASHIRO (WHERE ELSE WAS I TO PUT HER?)



_ICHIMARU, GIN_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: PSYCHOLOGY AND SOCIOLOGY
    * ADVISOR TO:
      * KUSAJISHI YACHIRU
      * NNOITRA GILGA



_KOTETSU, ISANE_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: DEAN - SCHOOL OF NURSING
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO:
      * YAMADA HANATARO



_KENPACHI, ZARAKI_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: CRIMINAL JUSTICE
    * SPECIAL FOCUS: CORRECTIONS/RECIDIVISM
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO:
      * SHUUHEI HISAGI
      * MADARAME IKKAKU



_KUROTSUCHI, MAYURI_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: BIOLOGY
    * SPECIAL FOCUS: IMMUNOLOGY
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO:
      * KUROTSUCHI NEMU (POTENTIAL CONFLICT, MAYBE MOVE TO UNOHANA?)
      * GRIMMJOW JAEGERJAQUEZ
      * HITSUGAYA TOSHIRO



_MUGURUMA, KENSEI_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: ATHLETIC TRAINING/EXERCISE SCIENCE
    * ADVISOR TO: 
      * ARISAWA TATSUKI
      * YASUTORA SADO



_OTORIBASHI, ROJURO_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: FINE ARTS
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO: 
      * YADOMARU LISA
      * AYASEGAWA YUMICHIKA



_RETSU, UNOHANA_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: DEAN - SCHOOL OF MEDICINE
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO: 
      * KUROSAKI ICHIGO
      * MOVE NEMU HERE?



_SHIBA, KUUKAKU_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: PHYSICS
    * TENURED



_SHIHOUIN, YORUICHI_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: DEAN - SCHOOL OF EDUCATION
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO: 
      * INOUE ORIHIME
      * HINAMORI MOMO



_SHUNSUI, KYOURAKI_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: DEAN - GENERAL UNIVERSITY
    * TENURED



_URAHARA, KISUKE_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: DEAN - SCHOOL OF ENGINEERING
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO: 
      * HIRAKO SHINJI
      * IZURU KIRA



_UKITAKE, JUSHIRO_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: DEAN - SCHOOL OF BUSINESS
    * TENURED
    * ADVISOR TO:
      * KUCHIKI RUKIA
      * URYUU ISHIDA



_[REDACTED], AKON_

  * RESPONSIBLE DEPARTMENT: CHEMISTRY
    * SPECIAL FOCUS: ORGANIC CHEMISTRY
    * ADVISOR TO:
      * SZAYEL GRANZ



**> > END OF ALL FILES SELECTED FOR REVIEW** ********

* * *

**[ begin: freshman year ]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos make me feel like my writing isn't absolute trash so if you leave one of those for me thank u so much friend ❤


	2. The Password Was "Guest"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kira hacks into the university system, Renji realizes he's royally fucked, Nnoitra's apartment is the actual worst, and Rukia's just casually freaking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have an outline written for this whole thing but i'm human garbage so my chapters vary wildly in length oops lol. fair warning, this is a university setting and i will be drawing from my own college experiences which frankly include drugs and alcohol.

“The… the password was _‘guest'._ ”

Sitting in the dark behind the faint glow of his laptop, Izuru Kira can’t contain the brief look of blatant disbelief that’s splattered all across his face. Until this very moment, he had been convinced this kind of shit only happens in really bad movies. It takes mere seconds for his mouth to twist upwards into a smirk; here he was, just trying to finagle (re: hack) his way into his upcoming university’s records for shits and giggles— and now he’s actually in.

“Fucking _'_ _guest',_ ” the blonde mumbles again under his breath while running a hand through his hair before diving headfirst into the files. Kira is absolutely sure that his smirk has evolved into a shit-eating grin, but he just can't help it. It doesn't take him long to pick out all of the names he recognizes— they range from close friends to people he has only ever seen passing by in the bustling high school hallways where he’d spent large portions of his past four years.

Once Kira is satisfied with what he's collected on his fellow students, his mind wanders onward and he finds himself wondering if the faculty files are just as easy to access. Feeling uncharacteristically curious, he switches the program over to check.

**> > PASSWORD?**

The blonde types _'guest'_ once again and prays to every deity to ever exist that someone at the university is, in fact, just stupid enough for this to work.

**> > ACCESS GRANTED.**

“Oh my god.”

A short, snarky laugh escapes him as he snags some of the faculty files for good measure, although he obviously does not recognize any of those names. Kira is no fool, however— it’s very possible that the documents could somehow benefit him later in the long run, so there's really no downside to taking them now. The blonde boy saves every single selected file (and makes sure to make duplicates) on his computer, and then plugs in one of his many flash drives, backing them up on there as well.

Someone at the Karakura University IT Department is _definitely_ about to lose their job.

* * *

There had been an assigned summer reading list.

This is not a drill, screams the voice in his head at peak volume.

_There had been an assigned summer reading list._

Red alert.

Defcon five.

It takes every fiber of Abarai Renji’s being not to violently slam his face repeatedly against the nearest sturdy, solid surface— oh, hey, his desk sure looks mighty promising— _no, you absolute idiot, don’t do it._ Then again, if he’s extremely lucky he might just somehow manage to kill himself so that he won’t have to trudge through six huge and heavy law textbooks over the next five days before his classes start.

Maybe if he squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as humanly possible, he’ll suddenly wake up and it will be the day after he graduated from high school and he’ll have the hangover from hell again. Although Renji had been forced to chop off three inches of hair after the party that went all night following the ceremony (don't ask why), it's worth a shot even with the hangover and haircut as a trade-off... right?

_Nope, you’re just a goddamn moron. This is reality._

The redhead stares down at one of his syllabi blankly and then glances back up to his laptop at the long, detailed email that had come in from the dean of the school of law (Soi Fon; a weird name, but who is he to judge?). He’d known what he was getting into when he decided to go into law. He'd known it would be a ton of work. But it was his stupid friend’s asshole older brother who set him on this path, and that fucker would be _so smug_ if Renji gave up before he even started.

Resigned to his fate, he pulls Amazon up on his browser— and ultimately spends the next hour screeching over textbook prices.

* * *

“It’s too hot.”

“If you say that one more time, I’m going to dump this soda on your head.”

Toshiro Hitsugaya scowls over at his current company, who is sipping casually on what surely must be an extremely flat and warm diet coke at this point. He’s in a very bad mood; but then, he’s _always_ in a bad mood when it’s hot— something the girl he’s sitting next to has pointed out several times now (and each time she does it seems to somehow get _hotter)_.

If she’s affected at all by his dirty look, Hinamori Momo doesn’t show it as she dangles her legs over the edge of the porch upon which the two of them are lounging, tilting her head back slightly to look up at the sky. It _is_ sweltering, but she’ll never admit it in Hitsugaya's presence— she would never, ever hear the end of it, and the thought of that alone is enough to somehow help her withstand the awful feeling of the fat beads of sweat gathering on the back of her neck.

“Tie your hair up if you’re so bothered.”

His voice is a dry drawl; once again Hitsugaya is treating _her_ like the kid and she hates that more than anything. Momo’s face instantly puffs up in what must be an attempt at an angry expression that falls desperately short when it winds up resembling some kind of vaguely pissed off chipmunk. When her look does nothing but make him arch a brow in her direction, it quickly crumbles and she lets out a huffy noise of irritation before begrudgingly plucking the hair tie off her wrist.

“You know, when we get to the university I’m totally your senior.”

“We’re entering at the same time.”

“Irrelevant.”

Hitsugaya just heaves a long, dramatic sigh in response and shifts as far into the shade as humanly possible while Hinamori busies herself with gathering her hair into a ponytail.

It’s too damn hot.

* * *

Having Matsumoto Rangiku help her pack her things had seemed like a good idea at the time— honestly.

Inoue Orihime isn’t quite sure where everything went wrong, but all of her cardboard boxes are still flat and strewn about her apartment floor and absolutely nothing has been prepared for tomorrow. Yet here she is, raising a half-full mimosa and giggling drunkenly with her friend at 12 o’clock pm. Rangiku had swept into her home like a weather event as always, relishing her in tales of college day drinking and insisting that they do just that despite the fact that they actually had an important task to accomplish.

She’s now reached the point where her words are slurring together as she leans her head onto her friend’s shoulder, but given that it’s only the two of them, Orihime doesn't care one bit.

“I’m nervous.”

Rangiku seems momentarily taken aback by her statement before her face splits into an inebriated grin. “Eh?! Whaaaaat? Why, Hime?”

Orihime flaps her hand in the air in some kind of vague and lukewarm gesture that would probably actually mean something if she were sober. Fortunately, she is decidedly not, so she chooses to let the conversation die out there and drains what's left in her glass instead. After a beat she immediately forgets what she's just done and goes to sip her drink again, only to find herself staring at the bottom of an empty champagne flute. Empty— _oh._

“Rangikuuu, I’m out,” Her voice comes out in an extremely whiny tone, and her friend just laughs heartily before bustling off the couch and taking Orihime’s champagne glass from her fingers as she moves to the kitchen to make another batch of mimosas. The redhead takes a moment while Matsumoto is occupied in the other room, apparently busy drunkenly talking to herself (or a brand new imaginary friend) as she pops open another bottle of champagne.

Her entire head is spinning, but she graciously takes the refilled glass when Rangiku returns gushing about something or other that she’s just not quite paying attention to. She takes a swig of her drink instead of really listening and _oh my goodness gracious_ this one is most certainly stronger than the last one was. Orihime stares down at the liquid in her glass, swirling the orange concoction around in a momentary daze.

_Orange, like Kurosaki’s hair._

Rangiku snaps her out of her trance by loudly demanding if she’s ever even played a drinking game in her life, and Orihime is honestly glad for her interruption.

* * *

It was so much easier when they could just go sit on the roof of the school.

Kurosaki Ichigo swears loudly to himself, startling several individuals who are in his immediate vicinity. He's surrounded by people— the crowd is thick and merciless and _oh my god_ _he’s going to kill Keigo for suggesting this place._ He’s never felt so uncomfortable in his life; never mind the looks he’s getting for his hair— his height alone is enough to attract unwanted attention in a large group of people. He puts a permanent scowl on his face to hopefully discourage any more of that nonsense.

A familiar voice rings out from somewhere behind him, and suddenly Ichigo finds that he is momentarily okay with his height because he's able to find Kojima Mizuiro rather quickly amongst the sheer volume of people all around them.

“Let’s get out of this damn crowd,” he grumbles, knowing that his voice is audibly irritated— maybe even _petulantly_ so— but Mizuiro knows far better than to object or even say anything in response before the two have found a spot with some space for themselves. Ichigo unceremoniously plops down onto a vacant concrete bench while the boy with the black hair pulls his cell phone out in a blink, somehow managing to initiate and hold a conversation while his eyes are glued to the screen the entire time.

“Are Arisawa and Yasutora coming today?”

“Nah. Chad chose to finish out his counselor job at that summer camp so he's not back in town yet, and Tatsuki is teaching at the dojo. She told me she’s going to have to cut back on her hours when classes start, so she’s working her ass off to save money.”

Mizuiro simply grunts a single syllable in response; he's from a wealthy family, so that concept is entirely foreign to him. Before there’s any further conversation between the two boys, they simultaneously notice a continuous yell that’s growing louder by the second and hurtling in their direction at top speed. When Ichigo doesn’t hesitate for a single moment to mercilessly clothesline Asano Keigo as the brunette comes barreling towards him, Mizuiro just smiles to himself like he always does, tapping away at the keyboard on his phone.

At least some things won’t change.

* * *

Nnoitra Gilga’s apartment fucking sucks.

It’s not that Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez really minds the ever-present odor, especially given that the bowl he’s taking a rather large hit from currently is most definitely not helping _that_ situation. Hell, it’s not even the sketchy area the apartment is in, which is pretty fucking creepy and weird and well known for gang activity. It’s the shitty building itself; it’s the leaky plumbing, the paper thin walls, the many unemptied ashtrays, the sink full of dishes, and the hideously stained carpet.

“Hey shithead, pass it on.”

 _Or maybe it’s just Nnoitra,_ he thinks. Yeah, that’s definitely what it is. Regardless, Grimmjow shoots a poison laced glare at the man seated to his right but ultimately says nothing. He's definitely not the smartest guy on the planet, but he knows that it’s probably not the brightest move to act like an asshole when he’s smoking what is actually Nnoitra’s weed. He's scowling when he hands over the bowl and the lighter, finally exhaling the smoke he had been holding in.

“You gonna act like this your whole damn senior year? Because I’m not ready to deal with that kind of pain in my fuckin' ass every day.”

His friend ~~(debatable)~~ just sneers at him before flicking the lighter on and proceeding to take a long pull from the bowl.

“Maybe.”

Grimmjow turns slightly and tosses an irritated side eye at the third man in the room, who is either extremely stoned and on another planet or just his normal eternally stoic self. Ulquiorra Cifer clenches his jaw very briefly as if he’s contemplating weighing in, but when the bowl and lighter get passed to him his silence persists and he does nothing whatsoever to interrupt their unpleasant exchange.

It’s fucking _annoying._

Making a face at his useless and taciturn partner in eternal misery, Grimmjow waits until Ulquiorra exhales a rather impressive cloud of smoke before taking the bowl from him. He’s already in the process of taking his next hit when his gloomy friend finally decides to chime in, his voice as flat and monotone as ever.

“It’s your senior year. At least try to enjoy it.”

Nnoitra snorts and tosses his hair. “Yeah, right, with Nel breathing down my neck the whole time. Fuckin’ bitch.”

And there it is— it never takes long for him to start in on Nelliel, or to start in on **any** woman for that matter— for example, Halibel is another constant target of his unwarranted anger. As Nnoitra descends into a ridiculous rant about “bitches and hoes” and something or other, Grimmjow and Ulquiorra exchange weary glances, knowing exactly what the other is thinking (for the millionth time):

_Then why don’t you dump her, asshole?_

* * *

That’s the last of it, and Kuchiki Rukia isn’t sure how to feel.

She’s checked through all of her belongings three or four times now, convinced that she’s forgetting _something,_ and wouldn't it just be rich for her to arrive at university and have left behind something crucial? The tiny girl is well aware that her brain isn’t thinking logically at the moment; the knot that keeps growing and tightening in her stomach serves well to remind her of that fact. Wringing her hands, she sweeps her eyes deftly over her bags one more time.

That’s the last of it.

Rukia will never admit it out loud— she doesn't even want to admit it in her own head— but she's incredibly nervous. And goddamnit, what the actual hell is that nonsense? Kuchiki Rukia doesn't _get_ nervous. The idea of finally escaping to university had sounded so perfect, so novel, so liberating just weeks ago when she graduated from high school— and now that move-in day is upon her, she suddenly wants to run to her room, hide under her covers, and shrivel up until there’s nothing left of her.

Realizing that she’s actively spiraling downward (and that she's already packed away her bed linens), Rukia pulls herself back to reality. Taking a deep breath, she steels herself and pushes the invasive thoughts as far away as she possibly can. For a moment her heartbeat finally slows and her mouth doesn’t feel as dry as cotton, but then the abrupt sound of a car door slamming shut outside makes her jump slightly.

Byakuya is here to get her, that’s the last of it, and _it’s time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos make me feel like my writing isn't absolute trash so if you leave one of those for me thank u so much friend ❤


	3. Someone Has To Crack Eventually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tatsuki arrives to move-in early, a certain roommate situation seems like it will be a complete drag, and Grimmjow is over the fucking moon to get the chance to watch Nnoitra squirm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this fic is pretty much writing itself and i'm hella okay with it. it's gonna take a few chapters to introduce everyone so thank you for your patience in advance!!!

Arisawa Tatsuki is quickly realizing that being in the honors college is actually pretty kickass.

It turns out that the honors college has its own dorm, and it’s the nicest dorm on campus by far.

She’s the very first to arrive there for freshman move-in, just as she had intended. The website had explicitly stated that she could come anytime after 6:00 am, so her car is parked outside the dorm with its hazards turned on and its trunk wide open by 6:01 am. Tatsuki knows that her friends would laugh at her if they knew she'd already arrived, but she has been in the habit of waking up absurdly early for as long as she can remember to train, bending and forging her body into a masterful tool.

It’s a sheer force of habit— and it’s thanks to her training, she thinks, that she is able to turn down the help from every single move-in day volunteer who offers.

In fact, when she carries her own mini-fridge all by herself, she swears that the eyes of a bulky boy nearby bug so far out of his head that they’ll actually pop out and roll out onto ground. At that, she honestly can’t help the satisfied smirk that creeps across her face.

The boys and girls who’ve congregated to assist the freshman with move-in are initially exhausted and unresponsive, plucking items and bags from the cars that are now beginning to line up behind hers. They both look and act somewhat like zombies; emotionless, colorless, dragging their feet. Tatsuki briefly finds herself worrying that over her college career she’ll become as burned out as they appear to be.

Over time she finds out that the crowd of students milling around is made up of upperclassmen who are only assisting new students for claimable volunteer hours. The bleary eyed sophomore and junior student volunteers explain hazily that there are most definitely no seniors present, but absolutely no one seems to be surprised by that fact. To quote one of the younger students she had spoken with: “there's just no way any sane senior would help with move in when they don’t need to bother with putting the time in anyway.”

Tatsuki is very happy to find that her 'zombie hypothesis' safely evaporates as the morning moves along and the sun climbs higher in the sky. The volunteers gradually begin to wake up by sipping on what must be undoubtably horrible university provided coffee and by 8:00 am the entire area outside of her dorm is full of activity. The upperclassman become much chattier very quickly, and when she finally realizes that the line of cars has essentially become a giant clusterfuck she chooses to escape to her room.

Well, _their_ room.

Or rather, their _suite._

Another apparent benefit of the honors college: suite selection had been extremely simple and she had been able to personally pick her roommate long ago. However, Tatsuki frankly isn’t quite sure what time Orihime will arrive today given that she had received an extremely drunken phone call from her best friend at 2:00 pm in the afternoon yesterday. Remembering how inebriated her soon-to-be suitemate had sounded on the phone as she had chattered on and on endlessly, Tatsuki makes a mental note to go purchase some ibuprofen and ginger ale from the supermarket.

By now she’s long since managed to empty her entire car, brought all of her stuff up to her suite, and driven her vehicle over to the freshman lot (which is all the way across the campus, and isn’t _that_ just great) to park. On her walk back to the dorm in the unbearable heat, Tatsuki decides that now it’s time to take a real look at where she’ll be living for the next year.

The honors college, it seems, does not have communal bathrooms and is not two individuals per room. Instead it's made up of suites that consist of two single rooms connected by one bathroom. It’s quite simplistic: a single toilet, a shower with no curtain (yet another item to purchase), and a decently sized counter with one sink. She groans internally when she remembers that sharing a bathroom with Orihime will be a complete pain because she always sheds her hair _everywhere,_ but Tatsuki just begrudgingly acknowledges that she’ll have to live with it.

Overall, both the bathroom, her room, and the suite get an A+ and Tatsuki finally finds that she can’t help but feel excited for the semester to begin.

And that, she will later find out, is her single biggest mistake.

* * *

The two of them have been staring straight at one other intensely for 30 consecutive seconds.

Solid eye contact, defensive body language, but zero speech exchanged between them.

Zip.

Nada.

Zilch.

And goddamnit, Ichigo will _not_ be the one to lose this soundless staring contest. He's simply not going to let it happen; it's a matter of his obstinate pride and asserting some kind of weird male dominance. He will _not_ lose to his apparent roommate— not to some absolute tool with girlishly long red hair and a fuckton of what he assumes are meaningless tribal tattoos.

Unfortunately, his roommate is just as stubborn (if not more so).

Against all of his impulses, Renji somehow manages to keep his mouth glued shut and prolongs the strained silence. He’s becoming increasingly agitated by the second— just the aura of the boy he’s indefinitely stuck living with for the entirety of the next year in this impossibly tiny freshman dorm room makes the redhead want to punch the asshole’s lights out _already._ Scoffing internally, he wonders what the deal is with the obnoxiously bright orange hair. He’s well aware that he doesn’t have much room to talk, but at least his is natural— that isn’t.

By now it’s been an entire minute. It’s starting to get awkward, and yet they both let the silence drag on; after all, someone has to crack eventually.

Simultaneously, the same thought runs through both of their heads:

_It’s sure as hell not gonna be me._

* * *

Upon her arrival and all throughout her move-in process, Rukia tacitly observes that many of her fellow freshmen already seem to be acquainted with one another. Over time, the obvious conclusion she reaches is that a large number of them must have been public school students who had attended Karakura High together. For some stupid reason that lone fact stings, and she finds herself wishing for the very first time in her life that she _hadn’t_ attended a prestigious private school.

It would be good for her, Byakuya had insisted.

Well, now she’s calling bullshit on that, given that she's enrolled at a _public_ university surrounded by people she doesn’t know who all seem to know each other.

Rukia is the first to arrive to the room that she’s going to be sharing with a complete stranger for the next year. When she does, the first thing she notices is a small paper sign cut out in the shape of a heart that is taped next to the door with her named written on it along with "Hinamori Momo." Assuming that's the name of her roommate, Rukia pushes the (heavy) door open and is frankly unpleasantly surprised by how tight the quarters are. Provided for them are two dressers, two small desks, and a single bunkbed. Her eyes widen, but then she lets loose a sigh of relief when she notices that the bunk on top can clearly be separated from the one on the bottom and placed on its own— not that she can accomplish that feat by herself.

And so once her clothing is hung up in the dresser or folded away in the drawers and she’s unpacked all of her miscellaneous items, Rukia finds herself simply unfolding and setting up her fuzzy pink egg-style chair in the corner. She comfortably settles herself down into it and reaches out for one of the many books she’s arranged in a line on the windowsill.

Now all she can do is anxiously wait for her roommate to arrive, and hope to god that she somehow magically knows to bring a hammer.

* * *

When Nelliel tu Odelschwanck pulls up outside of her boyfriend’s awful apartment building, she lets out a long and exasperated sigh in advance. Grimmjow’s beaten-to-shit car is haphazardly parked in the lot (well over the line on the left side of what she assumes is the space he meant to choose), which means Nnoitra’s probably going to be in a shitty mood.

_Not like that’s any different than normal._

Nel scolds herself internally for the voice that had piped up automatically inside her head. Grimmjow may come off as a complete asshole, but she doesn’t know him well enough to judge him or assume that he’s affecting Nnoitra somehow; it just seems to her that every time the two of them happen to meet (which is usually in passing, because Nel isn’t very keen on associating herself with the boy who blew up an entire chemistry lab), her boyfriend is angry and she can’t help but want to pin the blame on him.

After all, it keeps her from acknowledging a fact she’d begrudgingly stumbled upon long ago:

Nnoitra is just a fucking asshole.

But he wasn’t when the two had met about a year ago, back when he was a cocky junior and she was just a starry eyed freshman. Things had been entirely different, and she had been so very happy. However, she's well aware in her heart that all things in the universe change without exception, and now it seems like her boyfriend spends far more time berating her than he does loving her.

She knows this to be true, but Nel refuses to admit it.

So instead, she tells herself over and over and over that it _has_ to be Grimmjow's fault.

It just _has_ to be his shitty attitude and his stupid face and his cocky manner of speech— not to even mention the weird boy with the eyeliner who never talks but follows him everywhere he goes. It's not like Nnoitra didn’t smoke pot before he met Grimmjow (in fact, for a long time he _sold_ it to pay off some of his student loans), but nowadays she swears that he’s **always** stoned out of his mind, his weed induced red eyes scrutinizing every single move she makes.

Nel purses her lips, hesitating slightly before bracing herself with a deep breath as she pulls the keys from the car's ignition and pushes the door open. She fetches her backpack from the back seat, slinging it over her right shoulder as she begins making her way towards the apartment. Oh, boy— it’s time to play _“what mood is my boyfriend in today?”_

God, Nelliel fucking hates that game.

* * *

For once Nnoitra is completely out of weed, and Grimmjow finds that his desire to stay at the disgusting apartment any longer has dwindled entirely.

Motioning for Ulquiorra to follow his lead, the boy with the blue hair stands up abruptly and prepares to yank an excuse to leave the place out of his ass. He knows that Nnoitra will see right through it— like hell Grimmjow actually has anywhere to go or anything else to do— but it’s not really a problem. Their friendship comes with an asterisk; it’s purely based on illicit substances and stupid decisions, nothing more, and they both know it.

Ulquiorra rises from his chair, seemingly having absolutely no objections to leaving. Nnoitra must know that they’re getting ready to depart because he’s already turned his attention elsewhere, powering on his Xbox and gluing his eyes to the television. Grimmjow opens his mouth, his half-assed excuse about to come out— but there’s a knock on the door right before he can speak.

Nnoitra groans. “One of you answer it. I don’t wanna get up.”

Grimmjow scowls openly at his friend* and doesn’t make any move to go answer the door for the sole purpose of pissing him off. It seems to work right away when Nnoitra’s eyes swing back over to him, one of his eyebrows rising steadily and his gaze becoming a nasty glare that somehow says _‘I smoke you out all the time, dickhead, the least you can do is open the damn door when I tell you to.’_

Running a hand through his blue hair, the sophomore lets out an elaborate string of curse words before stomping over to the entrance, feeling Nnoitra’s smug look fixed upon his back without even turning back towards him. When he reaches the door, he rips it open with such force that an objective observer would assume it had somehow wronged him personally.

Grimmjow freezes when Nel’s face comes into view, her expression momentarily just as surprised— but then her lips curve downward and her brow furrows. Her reaction makes his mouth twist into a frown that he shoots right back at her— he’s well aware that she’s never liked him in the slightest. He knows that Nnoitra hates almost all women, so he takes any judgment about one made by his friend* with a **brick** of salt, but for once he wonders if maybe her boyfriend is onto something.

Nel says absolutely nothing to him and simply pushes forcefully past him into the dingy apartment. It leaves Grimmjow speechless when he’s rudely shoved to the side— _where the fuck does she get off?—_

He is unable to even finish his thought (much less vocalize it) when Nnoitra sees her stride in and rolls his eyes agitatedly. The atmosphere in the room grows tense immediately, and the temperature somehow seems to drop several degrees. The girl plants her feet firmly on the ground and perches her hands on her hips, staring her boyfriend down. When Nel finally shatters the awkward silence and speaks up her voice is deceptively sweet to hide her sheer anger.

“So, Nnoitra, would you care to explain to me why you never showed up for our date?”

Grimmjow pauses momentarily, and then his face splits into a devilish grin.

Maybe he’ll stay just a _little_ longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos make me feel like my writing isn't absolute trash so if you leave one of those for me thank u so much friend ❤


	4. You’ve Got Some Real Dumbass Friends, Huh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grimmjow can't figure out how this is somehow all his fault, Keigo is a glutton for punishment, and Renji starts to think Ichigo might not completely suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day??? idfk what's happening????? aaaaaanyway as i've stated before, you may notice that my chapters tend to be kinda short, but that's bc i prefer multiple shorter chapters to obnoxiously long ones personally... so yeah, my bad.

“No.”

Just one word.

A single syllable.

_Well, **hot damn.**_

Grimmjow’s grin doesn’t falter in the slightest— in fact, he knows that it may be growing even wider. Frankly, he hadn’t expected Nnoitra to give Nel an answer in the first place, and his friend* hadn’t disappointed him. Honestly, that’s the single thing he can thank Nnoitra for besides the easy access to drugs: there’s always some kind of entertainment that comes coupled with being around him.

And with Nnoitra, entertainment inevitably comes wrapped up in a neat little package with some kind of violence or poor decision making. He may not be a misogynist, but Grimmjow is _always_ down to start a fight or do something extremely stupid. In fact, he’s convinced that both of those impulses are practically hard-wired into his brain. It definitely didn’t help to have those thoughts when he was alone in that soon-to-be-doomed chemistry lab, and yet here he is, ready to rumble.

Meanwhile, Nel has been stunned into absolute silence. It fills the room, escalating the tension that had already been present tenfold.

Grimmjow knows all too well that Nnoitra bitches about Nel constantly, but he’s never actually hung around the apartment with the two of them together or even really seen them interact. _That goes without saying,_ he thinks to himself, given that the girl seems to hate him simply based off his reputation— which is a situation that he usually relishes in, but there’s something to be noted about the agitation he feels whenever _anyone_ purposely ignores or spites him.

The current situation has his interest piqued, to say the least. He shoves his hands into his pockets, grinning all the while before turning and glancing at Ulquiorra to shoot him a look that says _‘we’re totally fucking staying to see how this shit goes down.’_ The taciturn boy arches a single brow but, as always, he says absolutely nothing and appears content to let the situation play out in front of him— as long as Grimmjow is there.

Because the fact is that his silent friend doesn’t like Nnoitra in the slightest— he never has— not that Nnoitra would ever be able to tell, of course. As far as he knows, Ulquiorra is just Grimmjow’s weird friend who smokes pot like a chimney and never deigns to speak to him, and Nnoitra seems to be completely content leaving it at that. It’s probably for the best given that Ulquiorra, despite his outward disposition, can be quite the formidable asshole when he is wronged (which Grimmjow had once found out the hard way).

But the situation doesn’t play out.

The silence simply lingers.

It almost feels like there’s static electricity in the atmosphere of the room crackling all around them following Nnoitra’s blunt refusal to speak. After a few moments of basking in it, Grimmjow finally shifts his gaze from Nnoitra’s apathetic expression over to Nel’s face to see her reaction— and somehow he finds himself instantly regretting doing so. His feral grin _does_ falter this time, much to his own chagrin.

Because Nel looks beyond stunned— she looks positively crushed.

“…What?” She’s now dropped the sickly sweet tone in favor of a much darker one, but not one of complete anger like Grimmjow would have expected from a woman treated so poorly by her own boyfriend. Instead, it’s some kind of weird mixture that he really doesn’t care enough to discern, but whatever it is, it’s not the ire that he had been anticipating.

Nnoitra just lets out a _tch_ noise and glares straight at his girlfriend before drawling, “I said **no** , I don’t want to fucking explain.”

The long haired boy abruptly pulls up the console menu via his controller, puts the Xbox in rest mode, shuts the TV off, and then stands up before stretching his legs and rotating his back slightly after having been sitting on his ass for so long. He then shoots Nel a look— an almost _expectant_ look— before he walks towards the door that leads to his bedroom. Nnoitra opens the door and, hanging in the frame, doesn’t take his eyes off her.

“You staying?”

Translation: _“are we gonna fuck or not?”_

Nel remains silent.

Nnoitra lets out a long yawn and Grimmjow can tell that the potent indica edible his friend* had consumed about an hour earlier is finally taking effect. Despite having an actual valid reason for his sleepiness, the action only serves to make the atmosphere in the apartment even more rigid and stiff. He remains in the doorframe, his form long and lanky and much, much taller than poor Nel. Nnoitra waits for several moments, but his girlfriend doesn’t utter a single word and that seems to be what brings about the end of his patience.

“Then get out. You assholes, too.”

With that, Nnoitra unceremoniously drops his hands from the top of the frame, turns around, and strides into his room while slamming the door behind him— and decidedly shutting Nel out.

Needless to say, it suddenly feels like a bomb full of ‘awkward’ went off in the room.

Grimmjow is completely unequipped to handle this kind of situation, and if this chick starts fucking crying he knows he’ll just explode on her. The best course of action, he immediately decides, is to just _get the fuck out_ and never bring this incident up ever again. Turning on his heel, he heads towards the apartment door, and Ulquiorra obviously follows. If the moment had shocked him whatsoever, his friend doesn’t show it at all.

He’s surprised when he hears the soft jingle of keys behind them before the door slams shut— Nel had trudged out of the apartment after them, her face now completely emotionless and her eyes blank. The sound is coming from the obnoxiously cute lanyard adorned with multiple charms that’s hanging off of her backpack, which she has now slung over her shoulder once more in preparation to leave. Grimmjow eyes her warily, having expected her to stay behind for some kind of argument with Nnoitra or something.

But the girl merely stares at the closed door, seemingly spacing out for a moment before her mouth settles into a thin line.

And then she just starts walking away.

_What the **fuck?**_

It only takes Grimmjow a moment to realize that he had, in fact, just spoken that brief sentiment out loud. Nel stops abruptly when he does, her back still facing the two of them. She’s silent for a short period of time and he thinks that she might just continue walking and ignore his sudden outburst. Unfortunately, it’s only a few brief moments before she speaks in a tiny voice with a sentiment that is clearly directed at him.

“It’s your fault,” is all Nel says before she finally shows her emotions by angrily making her way over to her car, shoving her backpack into the back seat, and then yanking open the driver’s side door to climb in. For the first fucking time in his life, Grimmjow is absolutely speechless as the girl reverses out of her parking space and then accelerates, pulling out of the lot rapidly and zipping down the road.

A few moments pass and then Nel is long gone, Nnoitra is probably in his bed dead to the world, and Ulquiorra is just staring at him with an entirely blank look on his face that only Grimmjow could ever be able to somehow translate into what he believes to be some kind of confusion. How funny— he feels the exact same way, but he’s a hell of a lot angrier about it.

“ _My fucking fault?_ What the actual fucking fuck did **I** fucking do?!”

He knows that Ulquiorra has no answer for him. He figures that he could ask Nnoitra, but right now he’d rather saw his own leg off. Seething dangerously, Grimmjow stalks towards his shitty car and his friend follows, sliding into the passenger’s seat once the vehicle is unlocked. He pulls his own door open in an excessively aggressive manner and elects to blast death metal the whole way back to the apartment he shares with the other boy in the car.

* * *

It turns out that neither Ichigo nor Renji cracks.

Instead, the staring contest ends when there’s a loud, sudden knock on the door— _their_ door, since it belongs to both of them whether they like it or not. The redhead’s eyes snap towards it immediately, momentarily leaving the boy who’s been staring him down. He’s loathe to let his new roommate win, but Renji is entirely unsure who the hell it could be and his curiosity is getting the better of him, so he crosses the room and opens the entrance.

He’s greeted by what’s practically a scream.

**“I-CHI-GOOOOOOOO!”**

Renji dodges to the side just in time as a blur whizzes past him and into the room without any kind of permission. He’s about to start spluttering and swearing and demanding who this random intruder is when his new roommate suddenly punches the guy square in the jaw as if he had been anticipating the attack beforehand. The intruder stumbles backward and crashes down onto the floor, cursing loudly and grasping his face where he had taken what looked like one hell of a hit.

“You _have_ to know by now that’s gonna happen every time, right?” Ichigo’s voice almost sounds exhausted.

“Yesh.”

 _Shit,_ the brand new lisp that accompanies his friend’s voice makes Ichigo think that he may have knocked out one or more of Keigo’s teeth (...again). Regardless, he simply makes some kind of vaguely irritated noise, telling himself internally that the loss of his teeth is justified and the idiot deserves it at this point since he knows what’s coming every time he charges.

“Then why the hell do you keep doing it?”

The brunette just grins upward at him from the ground, clearly missing one of his front teeth on the bottom row. “To annoy you.”

“Congratulations, asshat— it’s working out splendidly,” Ichigo pinches the bridge of his nose, finding himself wishing that he could somehow speed up time so Chad could get here to serve as what he calls his _‘Keigo buffer’_. He then seems to catch his first bit of luck since arriving on campus when Mizuiro strolls in, eyes glued to his phone as he somehow manages to expertly maneuver around the boy collapsed on the floor without even looking up.

Well, he’s not Chad, but a Mizuiro buffer will do just fine for now.

“Hey, who the hell are these guys?”

Ichigo blinks— _oh, right._

His roommate.

Renji is both thoroughly confused and extremely irritated, clearly not appreciating the fact that some random person came crashing into their room without any warning. The brunette is still splayed out on the floor rubbing his jaw, the boy with the cell phone sits down on one of the small desks in the room without even bothering to look up at him, and his orange-haired roommate is once again staring him down.

_Not this shit again._

That's it— he's fed up.

“Oy, what’s your name?”

The boy’s eyes narrow slightly in response as if he’s somehow suspicious of Renji, but then he finally relents. “…Kurosaki Ichigo.”

“...You’ve got some real dumbass friends, huh?”

“Man, you don’t have to tell _me_ that.”

The redhead can’t hold back the compulsory snort of laughter that escapes him, and he’s sure his roommate notices. “Abarai Renji. Let’s try not fucking killing each other for a whole year, yeah?”

Ichigo grunts in what seems to be a form of agreement, then proceeds to kick Keigo over when the brunette attempts to get back up on his feet (just for funsies).

Renji grins.

_Maybe this guy isn’t so bad after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos make me feel like my writing isn't absolute trash so if you leave one of those for me thank u so much friend ❤


	5. We’ll Even Get It Notarized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kira finally locates Renji, Rukia and Hinamori encounter a logistic problem, and Orihime swears on her life that she's never drinking again.

With the arrival of his roommate’s apparent friends, it’s abundantly clear to Renji that there will be no peace in this dorm room.

Keigo regains his bearings relatively quickly despite Ichigo mercilessly kicking him over twice more (mumbling something including the words 'asshole' and 'dentist') before he finally manages to stumble to his feet. He then turns and grins at the redhead in the room, proudly showcasing his now missing tooth, and decides that introductions are clearly in order.

“Ashano Keigo.”

Ichigo winces briefly at his friend’s new lisp— _yup, that's definitely more than one tooth._

The dark haired boy seated in the corner tapping away on his phone follows suit, his voice monotone and throughly disconnected from the situation unfolding around him. He doesn’t even raise his eyes from the screen to inspect Renji, which the redhead finds odd given his rather unusual appearance.

“Kojima Mizuiro.”

Renji doesn’t feel the need to repeat his name and neither boy makes an effort to ask for it again, so he assumes they caught it the first time. He then glances back over to the other side of the room where it appears that Ichigo now has Keigo in a strict headlock and is vigorously swearing at the brunette for some unknown reason. The redhead turns back to Mizuiro, arching a brow before gesturing broadly at the two boys quarreling across the room.

“Are they always like this?”

“Yup.”

A one word answer.

_This guy seems like he’ll be a fucking blast._

“Renji?”

A sudden familiar voice pulls him from his disparaging thoughts regarding the boy with the cell phone who, to his credit, actually rips his eyes from the screen to inspect the stranger who’s stepped into the room’s doorway. Keigo and Ichigo cease their ridiculous scuffle (well, Renji hesitates to call it that, because it really just appears to be his roommate torturing his friend) as well, turning their heads towards the entrance.

The boy standing in the doorway can’t help the grin that crosses his face when his eyes land on his longtime friend.

Renji practically stumbles upward out of his chair and nearly trips over himself. “Kira!”

Kira doesn't hesitate to stride inside the dorm room (“sure, go ahead, why doesn’t everyone make themselves at fucking home,” Ichigo mutters under his breath) and then reaches out to grasp his friend’s hand tightly as a greeting. Instead, Renji opts to clap him hard on the back in such an excessive manner that it promptly draws an _oomph_ noise from the blonde, winding him slightly.

“So you’re on this floor too, then?” His voice comes out as a wheeze at first.

Renji nods affirmatively. “Yeah, it seems most of the male freshman are.”

Keigo pulls a petulant face at that, scrunching his nose up. “Our entire floor ish made up of dudesh?”

“What, did your dumb ass expect the university to stick us with girls?” Ichigo’s voice is a sarcastic drawl as he rolls his eyes.

The now toothless brunette doesn’t answer, but _“well, yeah, kinda”_ somehow lingers in the air between everyone in the room anyway. Kira coughs awkwardly and then chooses to speak up once again, breaking the silence.

“So, are you going to this meeting with our floor’s RA? The flier says that it’s mandatory.”

Renji arches a tattooed brow at his friend. “What the fuck is a ‘RA’?”

“Resident assistant. They’re basically here to make sure all we don't somehow manage to blow the dorm up, and are assigned one per floor," Kira explains simply.

The redhead grunts in return. If the rumors about the infamous exploding chemistry lab incident are true, that seems perfectly reasonable.

His orange-haired roommate’s voice rings out, flat as a pancake and dry as the desert. “Why would we bother going to _that_? I’m sure at some point Keigo here will do something stupid enough to provoke the guy and we’ll get to meet him up close and personal.” Ichigo then jabs his thumb in the direction of the boy sitting nearby him, who shoots him a glare in return.

Kira simply shrugs. “The flier said free food.”

Both Renji and Ichigo are on their feet within mere seconds, the latter grabbing Keigo by the collar and hauling him towards the door despite a long string of nonstop objections. Mizuiro hops off his perch on the desk and follows them, not making a single comment the whole time.

“Hey, where are you taking ush?!” Keigo’s voice has essentially become a whine when he finally manages to speak loud enough for the rest of the room to hear.

Ichigo rolls his eyes at the brunette’s objection. “I guess you missed the part about _free food_.”

Renji snorts again as he locks the door behind the five boys once they’ve all exited the room and then motions for Kira to accompany them to the floor’s common area. “Dude, you’ve got some _real fucking dumbass friends,_ huh?”

His roommate groans, repeating himself. “Man, you don’t have to tell _me._ ”

The redhead can’t help but chuckle in response as the group begins to move as a unit towards the center of their dorm’s floor.

Kira makes sure to hang back behind the rest of the boisterous group (Ichigo and Renji are now having a heated exchange about the chances of the cafeteria food being edible, while Keigo is lamenting his lost tooth), taking note of the names of the three boys that will his friend be rooming with or hanging around. Renji he knows inside and out, but the blonde knows nothing about the other three— and frankly has their files sitting on his laptop.

As always, Kira is a full of his signature morbid curiosity, and he’s ready to start digging through them as soon as possible.

* * *

Hinamori Momo does, in fact, bring a hammer.

Actually, she brings an entire fucking toolbox.

She babbles for a full minute nervously about how she had done research beforehand and read on several websites the ‘basics’ needed for a dorm room. Well, apparently Momo’s ‘basics’ include a whole toolbox and a very comprehensive first aid kit. Staring in bewilderment, it takes Rukia a moment to process everything, but then she decides that it will be nice to live with someone who’s obviously competent and prepared.

(Besides, she _had_ brought the hammer.)

When Rukia had first greeted her roommate, she was pleasantly surprised— she’s always known that she’s obnoxiously short, standing only at 4’9”, but when Hinamori happily informs her that she’s only 4’11”, there’s instantly an odd sense of camaraderie that forms between them. Momo gushes about how she love’s Rukia’s style when she has the chance to look through her clothing and even compliments her rather large pile of stuffed animals (which, frankly, Rukia had been scared to bring with her).

“Say, Rukia?”

The aforementioned girl shifts her gaze to Hinamori from where she’s seated in her fuzzy pink chair, a book unfolded in her lap. “What is it?”

Momo is in the middle of hanging her clothes in her dresser when she pauses momentarily and hums to herself, placing a finger on her chin contemplatively before turning towards her roommate. “We have the tools, but… um… how exactly are we going to handle this whole ‘separating the bunkbed’ situation?”

Rukia freezes.

_Well, shit._

They’re both tiny, and she had somehow forgotten all about that fact.

“I… don’t know,” she says, running a hand through her hair, suddenly finding herself stressed out once more. It’s not that she doesn’t like Hinamori so far, but the idea of having to share a bunkbed with anyone has not been, and never will be, on her wish list. Internally, she wonders if she could ask Byakuya, but the very thought of approaching her intimidating brother just to request that he dismantle a bed for her seems far worse than just suffering through it.

Momo’s face then brightens and morphs into a smile.

“Luckily, I have just the guys for the job.”

 _Hopefully,_ she thinks— but she doesn't voice that sentiment out loud.

* * *

"Owwwww."

"I know."

"It hurtsssss."

“I bet."

Orihime tries her absolute best to shoot a glare up at her best friend— but when her eyes meet the light that hangs from the room’s ceiling, a sharp surge of pain shoots through her head and she slams them shut immediately while moaning pathetically. Tatsuki must be feeling at least _somewhat_ sympathetic because she’s allowing Orihime to lay down with her head in her lap while she threads her fingers through auburn hair.

Tatsuki’s room is entirely unpacked; her clothing is hung and folded away, her bed is made, and all her odds and ends are organized. Orihime’s, on the other hand, is not; she had (not so proudly) arrived at 1:46 pm with both a car full of her possessions and a raging hangover.

“Maybe next time you have to do some kind of hard work the day after, you shouldn’t be drunk by 12:00 pm,” Tatsuki’s voice is teasing, but her admonishment has a clear point.

Orihime drapes her forearm across her face, covering her eyes thoroughly before she mumbles her response. “I don’t know why I thought Rangiku would be a good person to help me do… well… anything that requires _actual effort_.”

Tatsuki laughs, a single _'ha'_ — she’s never met this Matsumoto character, but from the way her best friend goes about describing her, she sounds like a tornado of good times and bad decisions. Instead of prolonging the conversation by asking more about Rangiku, she begins to lightly massage Orihime’s scalp and her friend groans in response. Tatsuki briefly pauses.

“Sorry, does that hurt?”

“Not as much as my ego. I’m never drinking again.”

“I’m gonna need that in writing.”

Orihime makes a noise of acknowledgement and doesn’t lift her arm from her face. “Sure. We’ll even get it notarized.”

* * *

It turns out that the free food is just cheap pizza, but given that the five of them are teenage boys, it doesn't matter what it is as long as it’s some kind of carbohydrate. The pizza boxes bear the logo of a local restaurant and the pies themselves are, quite frankly, huge. Ichigo eats an entire three pieces, something Renji makes a comment on (and nearly gets an elbow in the side as a result). Keigo then decides he has to out-eat Ichigo, an idea that Mizuiro shoots down instantly because, to quote:

_“You’re lactose intolerant, you’re my roommate, and I reserve my rights preserved under the Geneva convention.”_

The joke is clearly lost on Keigo, but Kira spits out an entire mouthful of soda as a result. Renji immediately begins to cackle at him and the blonde scowls in his direction as he begins to dab at a wet spot on his shirt with a paper napkin. While he's busy trying to clean himself up, he feels his phone buzz twice in his pocket; setting down his now empty solo cup, Kira pulls out his phone and unlocks it swiftly to check whatever notification he had received.

“Oh— hey Renji, it’s Momo.”

Renji visibly perks up. “She’s here already?”

“Yeah, and requesting that we do physical labor for her.” Kira’s response is fond but dry.

The boy with the tattoos heaves a long sigh, shaking his head. “Fine, let’s go help the poor midget.”

After some persuasion, Ichigo, Keigo, and Mizuiro elect to accompany Renji and Kira to wherever Hinamori's room is located _("Dude, does this chick even live in this dorm?" "Shit, actually, I dunno.")_. All five of boys had been preoccupied joking and arguing amongst themselves throughout the entire meeting— and that doesn't change when they're filing out of the room, Ichigo having to physically shove Keigo through the door. In fact, they had been so busy the entire time that none of them had noticed the dark haired boy with glasses in the corner who's currently grimacing at the thought of the individuals that he now knows are also living on his floor.

Ishida Uryuu is **not** amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos make me feel like my writing isn't absolute trash so if you leave one of those for me thank u so much friend ❤


	6. Ulquiorra, You Sly Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grimmjow is totally NOT bothered by the fact that he doesn't have any idea what's going on, Renji catches word of an old friend, and Tatsuki may accidentally provoke Rangiku (the self-proclaimed liquor fairy).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know these chapters seem to be coming out almost too quickly, but due to having abandoned many multi-chapter fics in the past bc of sheer fatigue with them i'm trying out a new writing style that i think is working well. what i'm doing is writing short chapters with more frequent updates for what will be a long fic, and it seems to flow better for me somehow.  
> tl;dr stay with/don't hurt me pls lol

It’s bothering him.

God fucking shit dammit, _it’s bothering him_ , and Grimmjow is a not a man who likes to be bothered.

The worst part is that it’s not so much either individual involved in this nonsense that's irking him; rather, it’s that he really doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

He’s been back at his own apartment for hours (the place is undeniably a wreck, but it’s a haven compared to Nnoitra’s) and by now he had thought that the day’s events would just float away to the back of his mind. However, for some reason, he can’t seem to shake off his sour mood no matter what he does— and he’s tried. Cracking skulls open in violent video games often helps, but that hadn’t worked in the slightest. His next choice, the gym, seemed like a bad idea with all the freshmen milling around today— he doesn’t trust himself not to murder one of them if they try to talk shit.

So naturally he’s now resorted to alcohol, halfway through a six pack of some summer lager in his room while splayed out on his bed.

_(“It’s your fault.”)_

Nel’s voice rattles around in his head and bounces off the insides of his skull, an admonishment and condemnation all in one. How the hell can it be his fault when he’s barely even spoken to her? Why is the fuck she blaming him for anything her shitty boyfriend says or does at all? The most words they’ve exchanged in the past has to be a grand total of five or less, and their only connection whatsoever is Nnoitra so they’ve never meet elsewhere.

Grimmjow groans agitatedly and slides a hand down his face. This is so _annoying_ and it’s _hot_ and he’s _exhausted_.

Ulquiorra appears in the doorway wordlessly. His green eyes land on the six pack, move to the open beer that’s lingering in his hand, and then finally rise to Grimmjow’s face. As always, his roommate says nothing, simply lingering in the space.

“What?” He finally snaps, and when Ulquiorra shoots him an admonishing glare Grimmjow swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up straight. He chugs the entirety of what’s left of the bottle in his hand, discards it into a bin that’s already overflowing with cans, and doesn’t hesitate to reach for another one right away. Ulquiorra clearly has something to say, and Grimmjow is perfectly content to drink and stare him down until his roommate just comes out with it.

He’s about to twist the top off when Ulquiorra finally speaks up.

“Well, Halibel and Szayel asked us to get drinks, but it seems you have that covered.”

Grimmjow’s up on his feet immediately, dropping the new bottle he had been holding onto the bed like a hot potato while reaching out to the top of his dresser for any random t-shirt he can find.

“I sure as hell don’t. Let’s go get fucking wasted.”

Ulquiorra says nothing, following him out the front door and locking it behind them.

* * *

It turns out that Rukia and Momo do _not_ live in the same dorm— in fact, they live all the way across campus.

It’s a long walk to their destination in the heat, but thankfully the sun is finally beginning to sink in the sky by the time all five of the boys have made their way to the building. The warmth of the day has slowly begun to fade to a more tepid temperature, but the humidity lingers, a last remnant of the summer. When they reach the front door, an obstacle appears that none of them had yet considered:

“Oh,” Kira straightens up suddenly. “We need Momo to come down and get us, don’t we?”

Ichigo glances down at the university keycard dangling from his lanyard. He knows in advance that it likely won’t work but he tries anyway, reaching out and tapping it against the sensor on the dorm’s main entryway. There’s brief flash of a red light and he grunts in acknowledgment. “Huh, yeah— it looks like we can’t get in here.”

Mizuiro doesn’t look up from his phone and sounds almost bored when he speaks. “It’s not our dorm, and on top of that, it’s a girl’s dorm. Of course we can't.”

“Just call her,” Renji elbows Kira in the side, obviously feeling impatient.

“I— _ow—_ am. Jesus.” The blonde fumbles with his phone for a moment before managing to put the call through. It rings, rings, rings three times before he hears a familiar voice on the other end.

“Thank you so, so, so much for agreeing to help me!” Momo’s ordinarily bubbly voice sounds uncharacteristically distressed to the point of excessive volume— Renji winces when he can hear her from several feet away and finds himself apologizing internally to Kira’s right eardrum.

Kira must be doing the exact same because he switches ears before responding with a mock-offended scoff. “As if we wouldn’t.”

Renji leans over towards him and bellows into the phone, making damn sure that Momo will hear his voice and be able to recognize who it is. “But if you want us to do shit for you, you gotta let us in first.”

Hinamori giggles softly before exclaiming, “Renji! I’m so glad you’re here, too— I’ll be right down to bring you up!”

Renji grins wildly (even though she can’t see him) and Kira says “thanks,” but makes no motion to end the phone call, figuring Hinamori would be the first to hang up— so when she obviously doesn’t, all five of the boys pause and turn their attention to the phone. The sound is slightly muffled; Momo is most likely holding her phone to her chest or putting it in her pocket but whether she knows it or not, the call is still live.

“Did… Did you just say ‘Renji’?”

A second female voice, an unfamiliar voice to everyone in their group— all except one.

Momo makes an affirmative noise, but it’s then that she must realize the line is still connected because the call finally ends and the phone reverts to Kira’s home screen. Kira shrugs, locking his phone and putting it back in his pocket before turning towards the rest of the group. He’s caught off guard entirely when he takes in Renji’s expression— it looks like he’s seen a ghost, no, screw that, _a ghost of a ghost._

The redhead regains his composure after a few moments, but it’s far too late and everyone seems to have noticed. His voice is raspy when he finally speaks, like his mouth is dry.

“So, Momo has a roommate, right?”

Kira nods, obviously confused as to where this is going.

Renji attempts to swallow the lump that’s rapidly growing in his throat. “…And she’s really short, huh?”

Ichigo looks over at his new roommate like he’s an idiot. “If she wasn’t, they probably wouldn’t need our help.”

“Is something up, Renji?” Kira’s beginning to feel unsettled; his friend doesn’t normally behave this way— like, _ever._ The boy with the tattoos shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“Oh, yeah, dude. No big deal. I’m just totally fucked.”

* * *

Tatsuki finally coaxes her out of bed at 4:46 pm.

Orihime makes a big show of grumbling and protesting, but when her best friend promises to pay for her meal and offers to let her pick where to eat the excitement becomes visible on her face. The campus has several dining options— she and Tatsuki had both elected to include both the standard dining hall and the commercial campus restaurants in their meal plans— and if anything will cure this hangover, it’s a huge, greasy hamburger with toppings that would definitely make all of her other friends cringe.

“So, is the lovely Rangiku coming?” Her friend clearly means it as a joke, but Orihime brightens at the suggestion and whips out her cell. Tatsuki looks at the object in her hand and mumbles, “I just made a huge mistake, didn’t I?”

Orihime doesn’t hesitate to nod her head _‘yes’_ but before Tatsuki can prevent her from placing the call, Matsumoto’s voice croons through the phone.

“Hime! Are you here? Are you settled? Are you hungry?”

The girl with the auburn hair winces at the sheer intensity of her friend’s voice but smiles anyway. “Yes to the first, no to the second, and _god yes_ to the third.”

“Do you know where the student union is?”

“I do.” Tatsuki suddenly chimes in, surprising Orihime, who arches her eyebrows briefly before shrugging, putting the phone on speaker, and holding it between the two of them. “You must be the infamous Rangiku, huh? You really did a number on her— well, and yourself, I guess— yesterday.”

Tatsuki’s words definitely sound like an admonishment, but her tone is full of dry humor. A warm, teasing laugh erupts from the speaker. “Matsumoto Rangiku, resident liquor fairy, at your service. To whom am I speaking?”

“Arisawa Tatsuki. I’m Inoue’s suitemate and apparent hangover head-scratcher. Give me a heads up next time, will ya?”

Orihime can practically hear the grin that must be blooming on Rangiku’s face through the phone. “Ooh, Hime, I _like_ her. Meet me there in 20 minutes.”

It doesn’t seem like Matsumoto is giving them a choice given that she immediately hangs up after that sentence. Tatsuki shoots a look at her roommate. “Wait— the student union is huge. How will we know where to find her?”

“Trust me,” Inoue says conversationally as she plies open one of her haphazardly packed boxes to fetch some fresh clothing. “We won’t have to. Rangiku will find us.”

Tatsuki’s not sure if that statement is frightening or endearing.

* * *

Grimmjow quite likes drinking with his fellow upperclassmen.

He likes it for several reasons, but the main one is that _Ulquiorra talks._

It takes a certain amount of alcohol, of course, to push the taciturn boy to his breaking point, but once the dam is broken there’s no going back. Right now Ulquiorra is teetering on the edge of that cliff, crammed into a corner booth at one of the local dive bars he frequents with Grimmjow and two of their friends who are current seniors, Tier Halibel and Szayel Granz.

“So, Grimmjow,” Halibel’s voice is deceptively casual. “How’s Nnoitra doing?”

The boy in question groans, tipping back his mug of beer for a long swig before he answers. “Well, he’s still fucking your roommate, smoking pot, and being an asshole. Does that sum it up?”

His female friend doesn’t bristle at his response (at least not visibly), instead choosing to swirl the ice around in her mixed drink with her straw while uncharacteristically staring him down. Grimmjow is about to snap and tell her that he has nothing to do with Nnoitra and that he doesn’t want to talk about this shit when Ulquiorra suddenly decides it’s time to be social.

“I hate him.” He says simply, like he’s talking about the weather outside.

Szayel stays silent, opting to take a sip of his beer instead of making a comment. He’s made it well known that he is on neutral ground between them all, and always will be; while it can be somewhat irritating, it’s also refreshing on occasion.

Halibel, however, grimaces at Ulquiorra. “That makes two of us.”

Grimmjow slams a fist down on the table loudly, but it doesn’t startle anyone sitting at it— they’re used to him doing this or that or something similar several times throughout any given evening. “Goddammit, can we _not_ talk about the biggest gaping asshole on this planet over our first round of drinks back here together?!”

“Fine,” Halibel says cooly, “then let’s talk about Nelliel.”

A sudden silence follows her statement. Even Ulquiorra seems to grow tense.

“And why,” Grimmjow starts icily, “would we talk about Nel?”

“Because she’s convinced you’re a problem, and I’m tired of hearing about it.” Halibel’s voice is similar to Ulquiorra’s in that they can talk about even the gravest of matters and still remain completely monotone.

He slams his fist on the table a second time, much harder than the first. “ _God fucking dammit,_ how am **I** the fucking problem here? Why the fuck won’t **you** just tell her _it’s not me_ and _get her to fucking dump the asshole?_ I don’t see how the fuck I was dragged into any of this fucking bullshit in the first place.”

“I’ve told her to do that several times, Grimmjow, and as for that last question, you started hanging around Nnoitra over the summer. That’s how.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense, Halibel. _FUCK._ ” Oh, his beer mug is almost empty— good, it’ll be an excuse to escape the table. He’s about to leave the booth to head to the bar for a refill when Ulquiorra's stoic voice stops him in his tracks.

“I’ll get us another round.”

Before Grimmjow can manage to somehow hold onto the empty mug, his roommate has suddenly disappeared with it— along with his excuse to avoid the situation at hand.

_Ulquiorra, you sly bastard._

“So,” Halibel is back to her stupidly fake casual tone, her eyes glued to him once more. “Let’s talk about Nel.”

God fucking shit dammit, not know what the hell is going on is _bothering him so badly that all his friends can tell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos make me feel like my writing isn't absolute trash so if you leave one of those for me thank u so much friend ❤
> 
> i'm gonna have so much fun torturing nnoitra later, it's what he deserves ✨


	7. The Flip-Flop Of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an unlikely group of friends meets up for the first time this year to begin collectively destroying their livers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've decided that the espada and the visored are a somewhat loose clique in this fic instead of enemies :’) i feel that many of the espada's stories were as tragic as the visored and idk it seems like a fun dynamic that i've never seen before. all that being said, this chapter is entirely espada/visored and we'll switch back to the freshmen next time.
> 
> I'M SORRY THIS IS LATE I DIDN'T HAVE INTERNET FOR A DAMN WEEK. fuck spectrum, seriously.

Grimmjow is just about to reiterate to Halibel that he does _not_ want to discuss Nelliel or Nnoitra or any of that _bullshit because he doesn't even know what the fuck is actually happening_ when a gruff voice rings out behind him, effectively cutting him off before he has the chance.

“If anyone asks, I am not a professor. I don’t know you at the university. I’m just here to have drinks with friends who are _not_ students.” The entire table turns to see a boy with silver hair and a particularly muscular build— Muguruma Kensei, the current adjunct professor in the athletic training department and one of their friends.

“You don’t have to say that every single time, you know.” Szayel glances at Kensei while quirking a brow, seemingly partially annoyed and partially amused all at once.

Kensei grumbles under his breath. “Yes, I do.”

Ulquiorra suddenly appears out of nowhere and arrives back at the booth, sliding back into his seat when Lisa gets up to let him pass by. Grimmjow takes a sip of the beer from his roommate— _ugh, a pilsner—_ and it's at that moment Grimmjow has a sudden revelation before he can even take a single sip.

“Fuck, wait a second— Kensei, if _you’re_ here—”

A random, unidentifiable object comes flying at his face through the air rapidly before he can even finish his statement. It winds up smacking him on the cheek and it's not particularly gentle.

“What the _fuck?!”_ Grimmjow turns to the side slightly and then scowls while clutching the foreign object in his hand— a quick once over reveals the weapon to be a tiny flip-flop. Everything clicks in his head instantly and he shoots a nasty look at the direction from which the object had come. “Hiyori, don’t be a fucking bitch!”

Hiyori makes a face right back at him without a moment's hesitation. “Yeah, like _you’re_ one to talk about being a bitch.”

At that very moment a long, lanky male frame strides into his peripheral vision. The boy standing before him proceeds to lean casually upon the side of the booth, his long blonde hair perfectly straight and his smile all teeth.

”Ya know, before we meet you guys, **I** was the only one to ever suffer the agony of the flip-flop of death.”

He doesn’t even need to look up from his beer to know who it is standing beside him; by now he knows Hirako Shinji’s sly voice all too well, and his sudden presence means that their little gathering is about to get bigger. Grimmjow grunts in acknowledgment before hurling Hiyori’s flip-flop back at her with the intention of returning her blow, but to his dismay she easily catches it in one hand and shoots him a smarmy look.

“Well I'm _so_ fucking glad I can take on some of the pain for you,” he then drawls sarcastically, sneering at Shinji. The blonde boy just grins cheekily at him in return; by now everyone in their group has long since learned not to take any offense from Grimmjow’s disparaging remarks, blatant threats, or contorted facial expressions.

Before their conversation can continue, a group of three people approaches their table— a boy and two girls, each of them carrying two drinks apiece. Yadomaru Lisa (a rather peculiar senior who tends to shamelessly read explicit adult magazines in public with a masterful poker face) hands some kind of beer over to Shinji before turning and makes a motion to Ulquiorra that is obviously meant to translate into 'scoot over' so she can sit down.

Ulquiorra is _clearly_ drunk at this point— Grimmjow knows this because _he’s smiling._

Trailing right behind Lisa is a shorter girl with bright green hair who practically bounces up to Kensei to hand him a mug. Kuna Mashiro is as bright and bubbly as she always is, all giggles and smiles and vivid hand motions. Kensei thanks her, grabs the mug, and then takes a long swig of whatever beer he's selected for the night while pretending to listen. When Mashiro finally finishes whatever random story she had been telling Kensei, she pauses to study the completely occupied booth for just a moment before placing a finger on her chin thoughtfully. After a beat, her face splits into a cheerful smile.

“I’m going to go get more chairs!”

“Thanks.” Kensei is often a man of few words— he's always preferred to let his actions speak for him— so when Mashiro asks for (or rather, demands) his assistance with the task, his face briefly looks slightly sour before he sighs and caves in. Setting his mug down on the table, he stands up and follows the girl away from their spot in the bar to seek out any empty chairs left crowded around the tables.

The final member of their entourage hands a mixed drink over to Hiyori and then makes a mock salute with two fingers to the table. “Yo.”

Halibel smirks— a very rare sight to behold. “Don’t you have to make a Kensei style announcement, since you're a professor now and all?”

Aikawa Love scoffs at her. “You know that I don’t really enjoy repeating myself.”

Szayel murmers _“thank god”_ under his breath before swallowing a huge gulp from his mug. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Kensei reiterating the rules every time just so he can safeguard his job— after all, he had worked his ass off for it— but his standard preamble has gotten _very_ old, _very_ quickly.

From the outside looking in, their little clique seems like an extremely odd group made up of people who don't appear to have anything in common— and that's not far from the truth, which is that they just happened to get smushed together at some point. Though it was tenuous at first, they all had ultimately bonded over one sore subject: the douchebag who had actually introduced the two bands of cohorts, Sosuke Aizen. Ever since he had completely fucked all of them over for kicks, his very existence has become an extremely touchy topic so no one _ever_ brings him up in conversation despite him being what initially brought them together.

Mashiro and Kensei return shortly with two chairs for themselves and one for Love. They set them up at the end of the table before sitting down, settling in comfortably, and beginning to enjoy their drinks. The chipper girl with the cropped green hair turns to look at Grimmjow— she’s definitely not his _favorite_ given her annoyingly bubbly attitude and blind optimism, but he still can _kinda_ like her most of the time— and then she gestures towards Ulquiorra.

“Do we have any... _work_ to do here?"

Szayel grins at her in a lopsided manner, finally opting to contribute to the conversation. “Nope. He’ll be a chatterbox once he empties that mug.”

It turns out that said mug has already been reduced to being halfway full at this point. It’s probably an extremely stupid thing to do, but getting Ulquiorra completely wasted is one of the clique’s favorite pastimes— and he doesn't seem to mind it as long as one of them pays for all of the drinks. In the end, someone always winds up doing it because drunk Ulquiorra is _far_ too entertaining to pass up; usually the bankroller is Szayel, who has a bad habit of facilitating mischief.

Hiyori squeezes into the booth next to Lisa and ends up shoving Ulquiorra further onto Grimmjow, while Shinji is currently smushed against Halibel (who is as stoic as ever despite having him practically on top of her). Once everyone is seated, the casual conversation begins to flow and the short blonde girl is the first to speak, as usual.

“Are any of you going to help prank the freshman dorms this year?”

Kensei frowns disapprovingly at her. “That’s really not a good idea, Hiyori— and not something you should talk about in front of Love and I.”

The blonde girl petulantly sticks her tongue out at him before finally taking a sip of her drink while Love mutters _“give it a rest, seriously.”_ Kensei shoots him a chiding look in response, but no one bothers to comment on the subject further— they all know that neither Love nor Kensei would never actually turn them in or get them in trouble for anything they do (unlike Aizen, that piece of shit).

Halibel arches a brow. “They really still do that?”

“Every year,” Lisa drawls, rolling her eyes before continuing. “But I guess you don’t really live close enough to campus anymore to hear or see what the upperclassmen do to the freshman anymore.”

Halibel shakes her head _'no'_ and swirls her straw around in her drink again. “...I'm not sure I want to see it. I remember my freshman year very vividly.”

“Oh, do you now?”

Everyone looks up instantaneously.

Ulquiorra’s mug is finally empty and the words had, in fact, come from his mouth. On top of that, he’s grinning— well, more smirking than anything else, but _any_ real facial expression is rare for the boy who usually stays completely silent and blank.

Halibel’s cheeks turn vaguely pink and her voice is almost a mumble. “You, Hiyori, and Grimmjow weren’t even here back then.”

“Yes, but Halibel, _the stories_ ,” Ulquiorra drunkenly drags his voice out into a teasing drawl and makes a vaguely suggestive motion in the air, his alcohol-induced smile somehow growing even wider.

Halibel points her straw viciously in his direction as if to make a point, narrowing her eyes. “You repeat any of those _'stories'_ and I will not hesitate to stick this where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Even with his friend's (clearly fake) threat, Ulquiorra looks smug as hell and Grimmjow is thoroughly enjoying it. Szayel suddenly turns towards Halibel at his side and requests that she let him slide out of the booth. Ulquiorra then turns to ask him if he’s buying another round of beer for the two of them and his mischievous friend merely smiles lazily in response to confirm his intentions.

 _“Fuck yeah,”_ Ulquiorra says in a satisfied tone, making poor Kensei choke on a huge mouthful of his beer.

“I'm still somehow not used to hearing you say stuff like that,” The man says after he finishes coughing hysterically, his face red from the lack of oxygen. "No matter how many times I hear and see it, I can't figure out how the hell your weird alcohol transformation even happens."

Ulquiorra shrugs his shoulders in a nonchalant manner, his lips still curved upwards uncharacteristically. “Szayel is just frighteningly good at persuading me to do stupid shit.”

Lisa snickers behind her hand briefly at the boy's current lack of a filter before she tries (and utterly fails) to cover it up with a fake cough. After all, every single one of them at the table is very much aware that Szayel is good at persuading _all of them_ to do egregiously stupid shit on a regular basis; it seems that as a group collectively they all suck at learning their lessons the first (or millionth) time.

Grimmjow scoffs at his roommate, no doubt recalling a rather unpleasant night last year that had ended with vomit splattered all over the inside of his car. When he speaks again, his voice is dripping with sarcasm. “Oh yeah, which is always such a great idea that leads to everything working out perfectly."

“Grimmjow, your car is an actual garbage heap. That vomit was an improvement.” Hiyori takes the opportunity to jump into the conversation again and he turns to shoot daggers at her with his eyes, but she knows not to take him seriously and just cocks her head at him in a display of fake innocence.

“It’s a piece of shit because of _you assholes,_ in case you’ve conveniently forgotten,” Grimmjow hisses at her angrily through his teeth before aggressively chugging his beer.

“Oh, we haven’t forgotten.” The snigger that escapes Love is accompanied by a self-satisfied expression on his face that is easily worth one thousand words. Mashiro titters gleefully next to him and the rest of the table reacts similarly— especially the rather intoxicated Ulquiorra, who is actually donning what Grimmjow could genuinely describe as a shit-eating grin.

“As far as I’m concerned, you bitches owe me a new fucking car,” Grimmjow then jabs a finger at Love, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny. _“Especially you.”_

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be super happy to buy one for you with my shitty, non-tenured salary,” Love says sarcastically while rolling his eyes. “The thing still gets from point ‘A’ to point ‘B’. Stop whining.”

Szayel returns with another mug of beer for himself— however, it seems that this time he's chosen some kind of mixed drink for Ulquiorra instead. He sets the glass down in front of the rather intoxicated boy before ushering both Halibel and Shinji out of the booth once again to reclaim his seat.

“Liquor? You sure that’s a good idea?” Shinji arches a brow at Szayel questioningly while he's settling back into the booth, perched on what is basically the edge.

“Probably not,” Szayel says simply, and it's coupled with an amused expression.

Mashiro elects to chime in, reciting the mantra they all know very well: _“Beer before liquor, get sick quicker; liquor before beer, you’re in the clear!”_

“Fuck being in the clear,” his roommate says before taking a gulp from the mixed drink and then turning to stare at Szayel in wonder. “...This somehow tastes like a mix of every type of liquor at the bar.”

“That’s because it is,” Szayel casually says, as if ordering something like that is the most normal thing in the world. Ulquiorra pauses momentarily, then shrugs uncaringly and takes another long sip.

“Hey, Ulquiorra, do us all a favor and make sure that you puke in Grimmjow’s car again,” Hiyori says snarkily before bursting into a brief bout of laughter.

“I swear to god that if any one of you _ever_ does that again, I will snap all of your fucking necks.” His own mug is over half-empty now— he’s not drinking anywhere near as fast as his roommate, but a slight and pleasant buzz is slowly overtaking him. “I shouldn’t even be letting _any_ of you assholes in or near my car anymore at all.”

“Your roommate was the one responsible,” Kensei reminds him oh-so-sweetly, an amused look in his eyes.

“Not _just_ him,” Grimmjow responds quickly before glaring directly at Love once again, who merely shoots him a painfully faked innocent smile in return.

“Let’s change the subject,” Lisa says cooly, deescalating the situation instantly. Over all of their time spent together, the group had quickly noticed that defusing tension seems to be a talent of hers and concluded that having her around is always for the best. There's no denying that Halibel is cool and collected as well, but she doesn't particularly enjoy having to calm her friends down or reign them in.

Grimmjow glowers at Lisa and then turns his irritated gaze back to Love. “Fine. I need another fucking beer, and _you’re_ buying it for me.”

Love shrugs in his eternally composed manner. “Fair enough.”

Grimmjow pushes his roommate aside to slide out of the booth while both Lisa and Hiyori stand up to move for him automatically. Ulquiorra sways slightly once he is on his feet, so as soon as she is seated again Lisa yanks him back down into his spot to prevent him from tripping or falling. Love finally scoots his chair back, his mug now empty, and stands up while gesturing for Grimmjow to accompany him to the bar.

The tavern is, thankfully, not packed— their group has selected this specific establishment for all of their usual gatherings due to cheap pricing and lower than average foot traffic. It only takes a moment for Love to get the bartender’s attention and the bearded man eyes him warily, which Grimmjow can’t really blame him for because the stupid asshole wears dark, tinted sunglasses 24/7— even when he’s inside. A moment later, however, the man at the counter apathetically asks what they want.

Grimmjow gets another beer— _not_ a fucking pilsner this time— and Love orders some kind of random seasonal lager. When he also orders a cheap shot of vodka for every single person at their table (plus two more for just the both of them right now), Grimmjow suddenly finds himself significantly less irritated with his friend. He takes one of the two extra shot glass from Love, raises it up so that the two of them can clink the small glasses against each other, and then they both down the shots at record speed.

The blue haired boy flinches in blatant disgust when he finishes. “Fuck, the well vodka here is complete horseshit.”

“Yeah, but it’s like 80 proof.” If the harsh feeling of the liquor burning all the way down his throat had affected Love negatively in any way, he certainly doesn’t show it.

“I formally retract what I just said,” Grimmjow says with a feral grin, reaching out to help pick up and carry the many shot glasses back to their table. Mashiro literally cheers (and attracts several glances from other patrons, making Kensei growl at her to keep her voice down) when Love hands her one and she goes to down it immediately— but Kensei quickly stops her by grabbing her arm.

“It’s our first night back, Mashiro. We have to do this right.”

The green haired girl shoots him a dramatic pout before agreeing in an excessively cheery tone a mere moment later. She giggles brightly and says, “I think Ulquiorra should kick this year off, don’t you?”

Szayel snorts into his mug.

“Fuck yeah,” Ulquiorra utters again, a sloppy smile on his face and his mixed drink already half gone. Every member of the group takes a shot glass and then looks at him expectantly.

He’s silent for just a moment as if he’s trying to actually arrange his words, but it appears that he gives up on that almost instantly and just lazily smiles. “I’m just a sophomore, but _these assholes_ are graduating and leaving us." The boy then gestures to Halibel, Szayel, Shinji, and Lisa respectively; Halibel rolls her eyes at him in response while Shinji just shakes his head, clearly amused.

“We’re not actually going to be able to leave this town for at least another year,” Halibel states after taking a sip of her drink through her straw. “The cost of living alone elsewhere is too expensive for a college graduate with debt like all of me— not to mention everyone else— so I think I may want to stay here, find a job, and save money while living with Nel until she finishes school.”

“That’s _two_ years,” Shinji points out, and as a result he is forced to dodge the flip-flop that unexpectedly comes flying towards his face.

Kensei grins approvingly, seemingly beginning to lighten up. “You’re getting much better at dodging those, Shinji.”

“Nah, Hiyori’s just predictable,” Shinji drawls before he realizes that the blonde girl has already hastily retrieved her shoe and is moving speedily towards him, easily boxing him into the booth. She smacks him on the head harshly and he curses loudly. _“Goddamnit, woman!”_

Hiyori sniffs indignantly and returns to her seat, throwing him the finger. “That’s what you get for calling me predictable, dickhead.”

Shinji just flashes a grimace at her as a response, his teeth bared as he rubs the sore spot on his head. Grimmjow highly doubts that the tiny girl had managed to hit him very hard, but when it comes to Hiyori absolutely everybody knows that Shinji behaves like a goofy drama queen to amuse (or annoy) her. The entire group crowded around the table (aside from the two individuals in question) exchanges weary glances all around, every comrade thinking the same damn thing simultaneously:

_Oh my god, just screw each other already._

But, as always, no one says anything out loud—

“Why don’t you two just get it over with already?” Ulquiorra’s blunt implication completely shocks the rest of the group.

_Holy shit, one of them had just said it out loud._

“...Get what over with?” Shinji asks slowly, clearly attempting to pretend that he has no idea what his drunk friend is talking about. Hiyori is blushing very slightly, a phenomenon that Grimmjow hadn't even thought possible until just now.

“Fuck each other already. You’re torturing all of us with this stupid dancing back and forth.” Despite his extremely abrupt statement, Ulquiorra takes a very relaxed sip from his drink as if he _hadn't_ just dropped a nuclear bomb on the whole table. The glass in his hand appears to already be about a third of the way empty despite the actual contents being a completely disgusting concoction consisting of nothing but pure liquor.

Mashiro laughs melodically, obviously agreeing with him but clearly not wanting to echo the sentiment directly. Instead she just pokes her straw around in her glass, playing around with the ice while donning a goofy smile on her face. “Hey, Grimmjow— you probably want a puke bag for your car, right?”

 _“Fuck no._ If he pukes in my car again I’ll literally murder him. Do I need to remind you that this fucker here was the worst offender? His vomit was in the _fucking trunk_ and I didn’t find it for two damn weeks. By then that shit was _rancid_.” Grimmjow aims a severe frown at his intoxicated roommate, but it doesn’t seem to have any kind of effect whatsoever— regular Ulquiorra has clearly left the building.

“Hey, _you_ were the one who made me ride in there.”

“Because there were already seven of us jammed in the fucking car and _you fucking volunteered to do it, asshole!”_

“I did?” Ulquiorra raises his brows slightly and Lisa snorts abruptly into her drink before trying to pass the noise off as some kind of cough yet again (which, wow, she is really bad at that). Grimmjow shoots a dirty look at his roommate again, knowing full well that he’s pretending to have forgotten the incident just to get a rise out of him. Unfortunately, it seems to be working given that everyone is grinning at his expense.

Love coughs awkwardly after a moment and speaks up. “So, uh, are we finally gonna do these shots?”

“Ulquiorra has to finish talking first!” Mashiro insists, her voice starting to grow higher in pitch, which they all know is a clear sign that the alcohol has started to affect her.

Halibel glances at Mashiro’s drink, surprised by the speed of her intoxication. “What’s in there?”

“Everclear,” the green haired girl says casually as if selecting _that_ was the simplest choice in the world.

Kensei chokes on his beer yet again and turns to stare at her in disbelief before shaking his head at her nonsense and responding in a flat voice. “We’re definitely sending you home in Grimmjow’s car. He'll drop you off.”

 _“God fucking dammit,_ I’m not joking about snapping all of your fucking necks, and my car is not a fucking taxi!” Grimmjow is now borderline shouting, choosing to once again slam his fist down onto the table just as he had done earlier. Not a single one of them bats an eyelash.

Lisa turns to Ulquiorra, clearly attempting to defuse the escalating situation once more. “Come on— finish up. These shots aren’t going to down themselves.”

The boy with the eyeliner hums briefly in agreement before leaning forward to raise his glass up above the center of the table. The rest of the group follows suit, all of them clinking their glasses together at once in a cluster. Ulquiorra seems to genuinely be pondering what to say for a moment, but finally he opts to make one simple statement that will ultimately decide the events of the upcoming year:

“Let’s give everyone a proper send off. That's all there is to it.”

A murmur of approval sweeps through the group and when Ulquiorra tips his head back abruptly to take the shot the rest of them instantly do the same. Hiyori pinches her nose to dull the horrible taste while she does so and Shinji blatantly laughs at her while trying to down his liquor, resulting in some of it shooting out of his own nose (which _has_ to sting).

There’s a very short stretch of silence at the table until everyone is finished, and then Love speaks up in a smug voice. “Grimmjow, you may want to get some plastic wrap for the inside of your car, or at least some kind of bag.”

The boy in question drops his forehead on the table exasperatedly with a _thud_ before growling out his response. “I hate all of you dicks _so fucking much.”_

“No, you don’t.” Hiyori is quick to shoot her retort at him accompanied by a dirty smirk in his direction.

Grimmjow fucking hates that she’s completely right— but it's not like he would ever admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos make me feel like my writing isn't absolute trash so if you leave one of those for me thank u so much friend ❤
> 
> seriously posting fic gives me anxiety!!! idk why lol


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